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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884799">Mages Without a Circle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria'>Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Herald of Change [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abominations (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, Circle Mages, Free Marches (Dragon Age), Gen, Templars (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:53:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Archmage Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan travels through the Free Marches with the remnants of Ostwick's Circle of Magi, desperately searching for a safe haven for loyalist mages.</p><p>But with danger swiftly encroaching upon them, the likelihood of finding one seems far too slim for any of their liking...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Herald of Change [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mages Without a Circle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Somewhere in the Free Marches; Nubulis (Drakonis), 9:41 Dragon</em>
</p><p>A cold rain pelted the gaggle of mages as they followed their leader like ducklings through the muddy forest. Their robes, soaked with water, threadbare and torn, clung to their skin as they went, chilling them to the bone and eliciting shivers from their tightened lips. Occasionally, someone’s hissed curse would signal to the others they had tripped, slipped, or had their clothing torn even more from the broken branches and brambles that impeded their progress. Misery was writ upon all their faces in the form of furrowed brows, squinted eyes, and despondent sideways glances.</p><p>Had they not been mages, they might have gotten away with traveling on the road like normal people, perhaps even sheltering in a tavern until this early spring shower passed. Unfortunately, they were not “normal” people, nor could they convince anyone who met them of such a thing; no one could ever believe that the staves they carried, bladed on one end and sporting elaborate headpieces, were mere walking sticks, and the blazon of the Circle upon their richly-embroidered robes, the only garments they possessed, was a dead giveaway to anyone with half a brain. And so, they were forced to trudge through the woods in slippers with worn-out soles and make camp where the light of their fires could not be seen by either travelers or settlements.</p><p>Such had been their lives since Ostwick’s Circle of Magi fell. For months they wandered the wilderness of the Free Marches, eking out a meager existence while they avoided confrontations with enemies of all sorts – rebel mages who sought aid in battling the Templars, crazed Templars seeking to destroy every mage they saw, and everyone else caught in the middle of this preposterous war. They had, on occasion, managed to garner the sympathy of a traveler’s innkeeper or two, who spared them stale bread crusts and old, flea-ridden blankets. But that was as much charity as they had been able to safely obtain from anyone. It was mostly their magic that provided warmth, food, and safety; the very thing that most people feared about them was the only thing that would keep them alive.</p><p>Despite their miraculous self-sufficiency, there was only so long that they could live in such a manner, and they all knew it. Little by little, it was wearing them down.</p><p>Danlan had never imagined he would end up like this. Born in Ostwick’s alienage, the elf had thought things were looking up for him when he was taken into the Circle at the age of nine. Living in the tower was like living in a palace compared to his mother’s hovel in the slums. At the Circle, he was warm, clean, fed, and clothed, and had constant security. Not only that, but compared to other Circles he had heard tale of, Ostwick was a positive haven. It was an institution of learning with an almost serene atmosphere. The Templars of Ostwick were primarily silent guards; over time, with enough practice, one could convince themselves that they were merely ornamental suits of armor along the walls, and after a couple of decades of ignoring them, they almost didn’t exist.</p><p>Furthermore, most of the Templars and mages had grown up together and been around each other their entire lives. Was there friendship between them? Perhaps it could be called that. More like an unspoken accord, really. But as long as the mages minded their own business and kept their noses clean, there was nothing to worry about. Most certainly nothing to start a war over.</p><p>The Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter had done a brilliant job in keeping the Circle of Ostwick separated from the boiling conflict that had begun in Orlais and now spread across southern Thedas like wildfire. And yet, in the waning months of the previous year, the small sect of the Libertarian fraternity at Ostwick had seen fit to finally join the mage anarchy that had erupted all over the world. The dreamlike state in which they dwelled was shattered as Senior Enchanters were murdered in cold blood, the Templars retaliated, and the tower instantly dissolved into a massacre.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how he had gotten out of there alive. If it wasn’t the paranoid Templars trying to kill him, it was his own kind for not joining with them. He and a band of other mages, including Archmage Verana, had managed to group together to defend themselves, but with the tower burning and the city alerted to the chaos, there was only so long they could stay in the area. In the end, they ran, fleeing through the streets before the guards and Templars could pursue them and only barely escaping into the countryside beyond. There, they began their long, meandering journey across the Marches, and along the way, expanded their number by a handful, taking a few refugee mages from Markham under their wing for their protection.</p><p>Here they were, still together and searching for a safe haven to harbor them while the war raged on around them.</p><p>It had only been a few days since they had caught word that Knight-Commander Brycen in Hasmal was offering sanctuary to any Circle mage who wished to seek asylum from the conflict. It was a ray of hope they could not deny, one that Verana, their designated leader, grasped onto. Determined to find a place where they could stay and weather the mage-Templar storm, she turned them towards the city where Brycen yet maintained some semblance of order, occasionally emerging from the woods to find a road sign and quickly skirting back into the trees when distant travelers could be spotted.</p><p>As Archmage, Verana had become the group’s de facto leader from rank alone. Her title – an honorary one, but one that still held significant weight among mages – essentially marked her as equivalent to a Senior Enchanter in prestige, although she did not have the experience required for the position. Despite this, she had demonstrated great talent and control over her power, garnering the respect of the upper echelon of the Circle, and thus they had seen fit to grant her the honorable distinction.</p><p>It was only during the Circle disaster and the days following that Danlan was able to witness their reasoning firsthand.</p><p>He had never seen someone wield magic like she did. The rest of them were fully graduated mages, of course, and competent ones at that, even though two of them had only passed their Harrowing weeks before the collapse of the Circle. The difference was in how they handled their arcane gifts.</p><p>It was almost indescribable. Verana’s magic was a tool, a weapon, a means to an end, and it was obvious that she viewed it as such. She did not revel in it, nor did she let it define her. The rest of them, by comparison, merely played with it like a toy and were almost afraid to use it in any serious capacity. For them, magic was exciting, even exhilarating… like dabbling in something forbidden. For her, it was merely a natural extension of her being that was nothing to brag about. Simply put, she didn’t <em>act</em> like a mage, and that was something that Danlan found at once strange and awe-inspiring.</p><p>They had not spoken to each other much when at the Circle, as their interests lay in two different studies of magic; she favored spells of storm and spirit, while he focused on fire and entropy. Since the collapse, however, he had made better acquaintances with her, and he hoped he had found a steadfast friend in the young Archmage. It was only then that he found out she was one of the local Bann’s daughters and that she had a brother in the Templar Order. She did not speak much of her family, but what she did say about her Templar brother was favorable, and he could tell by the distant look in her eyes when the conversation drifted to him that she missed him deeply.</p><p><em>Andraste, those eyes</em>.</p><p>She was undeniably pretty for a <em>shem</em>, at least in his opinion, but her eyes had to be her most beautiful and distinguishing feature. In some lights, they looked blue, and in others, they looked purple, but in reality, they were both. When he had casually remarked about them one quiet evening, she said that she knew of no other people in her family who possessed such a unique color. She had told him that her father’s eyes were a dark rich blue, like sapphire gems, and that she must have inherited her eye color partially from him. She theorized, however, that her magic must have warped the tint somewhat. At the time, it seemed as plausible an explanation as any, and it made him wonder if the same thing had made his own eyes half-brown, half-green.</p><p>Danlan’s reminiscing was halted suddenly as he was abruptly shoved face-down into the earth, hitting the hard ground with a <em>thud</em> and a <em>whoosh</em> as the air was knocked out of his lungs.</p><p>“Damnit, Dan, pay attention!”</p><p>Simmy, another alienage elf, hissed in his ear as she pointed with a dirty finger over his shoulder, beyond a gnarled root. The sounds of battle could be heard in the distance, and Danlan squinted past thick brambles and dense trees to see magic flashing against lyrium power – a fight between mages and Templars. Glancing back at the rest of his companions, who were crouched behind fallen logs and boulders, he could see them looking on with grim expressions. Verana’s face in particular bore a mixture of disgust and disappointment, her lips pressed together as she watched the battle from over a ridge of earth.</p><p>“Should we do something?” one mage whispered.</p><p>Another snorted. “I say let ‘em kill each other.”</p><p>Verana sighed. “We don’t know if either side belongs to the loyalists or the rebels. Best to stay out of it and wait for the winning side to move on.”</p><p>“<em>Andraste’s tits!</em>” Simmy suddenly cursed. Returning his attention to the fight, Danlan’s eyes widened as he saw what she saw, and his stomach churned.</p><p>Abominations. The Templars had been winning the fight until one of the mages resorted to blood magic to turn the tide. And turn the tide it did. The rest followed suit, allowing themselves to be possessed by demons in a suicidal move just to ensure that their foes did not survive this encounter. Rage and Desire had answered the most strongly, it seemed, judging from the appearance of the twisted masses of flesh into which the mages had transformed.</p><p>“The fight’s moving this way,” Danlan warned.</p><p>“Stay calm,” Verana instructed quietly. “Just stay still and calm.”</p><p>As the battle quickly drew to its conclusion, the elf could only hold his breath and watch, almost unblinking. The last of the Templars was roasted alive inside his own armor as the Rage abominations bore down upon him, his power unable to stand against theirs any longer. The man’s unearthly screams tore through the observing mages like a knife, some of them clamping their hands over their ears and squeezing their eyes shut as they attempted to block out the horrific noise.</p><p>And then, all was still, the only sound in the air that of the softly-falling rain against the dead leaves of the forest floor.</p><p>Verana watched the abominations intently with her blue-violet stare. Slowly, she shifted position to get a better look, holding a slender finger to her lips to keep the others hushed. Danlan, watching along with her, wondered what the abominations would do now that their immediate foes had been defeated. What <em>did</em> an abomination do outside of combat, anyway? All the books he had read on the subject suggested they would seek to make more of themselves by whatever means necessary. But what of their immediate behavior when no other targets were readily available?</p><p>His curiosity was abruptly squelched as the abominations began heading their way with purpose.</p><p>“They sense us!” Verana hissed. “Ready yourselves!”</p><p>Up the mages leapt, staves in hand and glowing with power. Verana was the first to strike, electricity swirling like a storm around her before cracking at the approaching abominations like a whiplash. A scintillating cage sprang around them, trapping them inside with the threat of severe consequences if any tried to escape its bounds. A Rage abomination tested the bonds and immediately regretted it, recoiling when lightning seared it and sent it flying backwards into the cold earth.</p><p>Seeing the handful of demonic creatures temporarily trapped gave the others confidence, and a swarm of spells descended upon the abominations. Luckily, most of the mages had paid attention in their classes and followed Verana’s lead by unleashing lightning. Or, if they were better with it, they used frost against their demonic foes. Ice and electricity flew through the air in bright streaks of pale blue and purple, peppering the caged abominations that were ensnared not a hundred yards ahead of them. Danlan found himself using the same spells as Verana, as frost magic had never come easily to him. The two simultaneously launched arcs of lightning that crackled audibly as they departed their staves.</p><p>In a fight for survival, now, the abominations quickly retaliated with force, sending a wave of fire crashing outwards, dispelling Verana’s cage and simultaneously erecting a shimmering shield of energy around them before advancing upon the mages once more.</p><p>“Keep at it!” Verana shouted. “We can stop them!”</p><p>Despite her words of encouragement, some of the mages began backing up, fear almost palpable in the air as it gripped them with icy tendrils – even Danlan felt its chill in his veins. Refusing to give ground, however, Verana countered the force field with her own powerful dispelling magic, a rush of green flashing around the abominations and dissolving the blueish shield in an instant. Before they could do anything more, Danlan reached deep within and let his magic surge forth with exhilarating speed, a brilliant burst of electrical energy discharging from his body and crashing into the demons. He couldn’t help but laugh aloud as he saw the magic bounce and dance between the abominations, sizzling as it struck each of them. Beside him, Simmy let out a whoop when her <em>Winter’s Grasp</em> effectively froze one particular Rage abomination to the spot, and a follow-up lightning bolt from another mage then rent it to pieces.</p><p>Slowly but surely, the mages managed to finish off the remaining weakened abominations, the last of them evaporating in foul black mist when a burst from Verana’s staff sent its possessor back across the Veil. The crackle of magic abruptly stopped, and for a moment, they merely stood there, breathless from the battle and trembling with raw energy.</p><p>“We did it!” Simmy threw her arms around Danlan’s neck. He chuckled and hugged her back, and many of the other mages did the same, so relieved and happy to be alive and unharmed.</p><p>At last, however, once everyone was finished rejoicing, Verana returned her staff to its holster on her back and shook her head, pushing her damp bangs out of her eyes. “All right, everyone. Let’s go. We need to get to Hasmal quickly.” Her voice, Danlan noted, was tinged with exhaustion, and he, too, felt fatigue creep up on him now that the adrenaline of battle was ebbing away.</p><p>He followed Verana’s footsteps with Simmy at his side, who used her staff as a cane to aid her through the difficult terrain. After a few moments, he heard his fellow elf mutter quietly, “I’m so sick of this.”</p><p>He met her jade eyes grimly and nodded in agreement. “So am I.”</p>
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